


Show Me

by RipplesOfAqua



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Romantic Gestures, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipplesOfAqua/pseuds/RipplesOfAqua
Summary: Words are hard. Feelings are harder. A look at how a certain scene might have gone.Happy Valentine's Day!





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mytha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/gifts).



“Inquisitor.”

Cassandra winces at the sound of the words, too heavy on her tongue. Filling her lungs with air, she steels her nerve and attempts a lighter tone.

“We must talk.”

Lavellan turns away from her view of the Orlesian countryside and Cassandra’s heart skips a beat. That face, those eyes… how long has it been? Cassandra is struck breathless. Her cherished memories, the constant companions of her dreams these last few years, pale in comparison to the woman in standing in front of her.  

Lavellan’s eyes crinkle in delight, but wariness yet remains in the firm set of her jaw. She is not sure what to make of Cassandra’s tone, and this sudden, awkward thing that hangs between them. Still, she opens her arms wide.

“Don’t I get a hug, my friend, after all this time? I _have_ missed you, you know,” she comments, keeping her voice carefully light.

Cassandra’s heart clenches painfully, but she does not move – cannot. Locked behind her back, her hands clutch tighter around the precious box, leaden in her grip. The sharp, floral engravings cut into the flesh of her palm, and Cassandra bites her lip as the silence grows.

 _Drat it all_ , she should have planned this better.

“Maybe you should sit,” she manages eventually, her words breathless.

Lavellan’s arms fall slowly. She frowns, gazing into Cassandra’s eyes, her concern palpable. Cassandra can hardly bear it.

“I can stand,” Lavellan answers slowly. “Is everything alright, Cassandra?”

 _No. Everything is not alright_ . Cassandra is not accustomed to feeling like this. _Does_ not feel such things. The world has turned upside-down, and she, with her heart raw and exposed, is left inside-out.

“Maybe… _I_ should sit.”

Without turning, she backs her way to the nearby steps and lowers herself to the cool marble. Lavellan joins her, and even through thick layers of clothing, Cassandra can feel the heat where their legs touch. She straightens her back, angling her body towards Lavellan so that her hands, and the burden they hold, remain unseen. With blood pounding in her ears, she takes a deep breath and begins.

“Inquisitor, I want you to know that I am your friend. I will _always_ be your friend.”

She had made a grave mistake that day, long ago. She must not hurt Lavellan again, will not ruin what they still have. She needs Lavellan to understand, to see that Cassandra will always be hers no matter what.

If nothing else, Cassandra is a loyal friend.

But Lavellan does not relax, does not smile. Worry etches deep lines into the space between her eyes, and a quiet “oh…” escapes her mouth. Her shoulders fall, almost imperceptibly. But Cassandra notices.

No. _No_ , that is not the reaction she had intended. Still, she forges onward.

“I… have been callous, at times, in the past. I am not one to hide my feelings, but I forget the effect I may have on the feelings of others. But now”—she laughs bitterly—“now that I finally see my feelings for what they are, I do now know what to say.”

Lavellan’s eyes search her own with unexpected tenderness. “Cassandra… You have nothing to fear from me. If words are too difficult, perhaps there in another way?”

Cassandra manages a weak chuckle at that. Even now, Lavellan knows her all too well.

“Yes, that is what I thought, too. You see… I know today is a special day for you. A day to express affection to those who mean the most. There is much I still have to learn about your customs, but I have been advised that this might be appropriate.”

Lavellan blinks without recognition. “I’m sorry, today is…?”

Well _that_ is unexpected. Cassandra racks her brain. Surely she has not gotten the date wrong? She must have checked a hundred times.

“It is… today…” _Oh dear._ Eyes wide, she stares at Lavellan, her heart racing. Surely she hasn’t forgotten! “The name, it is on the tip of my tongue. Vhen… Vath… Valen…”

But the word is not there.

Her eyes close. “It started with a V,” she admits, forlorn.

Then it falls into place. _V_ … What, no-it couldn’t!

“ _Varric!”_ She leaps to her feet, muscles straining. She pounds a fist against the stone wall, her shoulders slumping. “I am going to kill that dwarf. Why do I believe everything he says? _Why?_ ” She groans and leans her head against the marble.

_What a fool I am._

But then there is movement by her side, and something warm wraps around her waist, pressing against her back. Gentle fingers release the box from her stiff hand and carefully places it on the ground. A second arm presses against her, turning her, until she is enveloped in a hug. She buries her head against Lavellan’s shoulder, and breathes in the comforting scent of leaves and woodsmoke.

“I made it for you…” she whispers, finally.

“Then show me,” Lavellan whispers back.

Cassandra steps out of their embrace and reaches down to pick up the wooden box. Its surface is carved with dozens of delicate flowers: roses and chrysanthemum, peonies and daffodils, sweet pea and forget-me-nots. It is the happy result of a lucky meeting with a traveling craftswoman. Cassandra’s own gift lies inside.

“Open it.” She offers the box, and her heart, to the woman standing in front of her.

Lavellan lifts the lid and gasps. A scarf shimmers in the sunlight, deep blues and purples like a dragonfly’s wings. Lavellan trails her fingers against the soft fabric in wonder.

“ _Oh..._ Cassandra, it’s _beautiful_ . You _made_ this? I had no idea...”

Cassandra smiles, a sliver of hope bubbling up in her chest. “I do not advertise _all_ my skills, you know,” she jokes lightly, trying to dispel the excess energy buzzing between them. She shrugs. “It is practical, and it gives my hands something to do on the road.” She pauses, a new lump welling up in her throat. “My mother taught me, when I was young. I was never much good at sitting still for long, but it helps me to remember her.”

“Oh, my.” Lavellan reaches out to Cassandra, clasping her hand with one of her own. “You _made this,”_ she repeats in awe, giving Cassandra’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“The color reminded me of you. And Skyhold is old and drafty, your orange scarf must be worn out by now.” Her shoulders lift with pride. “There is a hidden compartment, just there”-she points-“ where you can hide a packet of flowers and spices. It will smell of home, wherever you may travel.”

“Oh dear heart, I have _missed_ you.” Lavellan reaches up and cups Cassandra’s cheek with her palm, gently stroking with her fingertips. _“You_ are my home.”

Cassandra’s heart soars.

“There is still much we must discuss, once this new threat is dealt with,” Lavellan continues, wistfulness coloring her voice. “But for now... stay with me?”

“My lady, I will stand at your side for as long as I live. Always.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This really turned into a hot, sappy mess of fluff-vomit, but honestly I regret nothing! ;)


End file.
